The Seven Deadly Sins of Growing Up Malfoy
by Asuka ONeill
Summary: Sins are apart of everyday life. But for a Malfoy, it's pretty much a way of life. A fairly long one-shot divided into small parts to show a snapshot of what it's like to grow up Malfoy. (COMPLETE) Sequel now up... 'The Malfoy Diaries' check my author pag


A/N: Hi everybody... I know most new authors say this but what are you going to do... This is my first ever fic. Very First. Number One. So proud. Anyways, that's not why you're here... so on you go... read my fic... and please, don't forget to review. Thanks... Asuka O'Neill

**The Seven Deadly Sins of Growing Up Malfoy**  
By Asuka O'Neill

What's In a Name?

Anyone who is alive in the wizarding world today has heard of the name Malfoy. It's a name with a reputation usually associated with greed, lust and envy, among other things I can assure you. To be a Malfoy is to hold your head up high while strutting about like you own the place, stepping on those beneath you (which, mind you, is anyone who is not a Malfoy)… in other words, to be a Malfoy is to be a complete and utter snob.

The name Malfoy is believed to derive from the French "Mal foi", which means "bad faith". However, I'm told it also came from a similar French phrase "Mal fait", which can be interpreted as "badly made" or "evil deeds". Alternately, in Arthurian legends, Lancelot (King Arthur's greatest knight and his betrayer) is sometimes called "Le Chevallier Mal Fait" (the "mal fait" knight).

But honestly, what's in a name? A name is not the be all and end all of what a person is like. A name is something that identifies us as individuals, other than calling everyone "hey you". But other than that there is nothing else to a name. It's really the person, not the name, which counts.

So why is it when I introduce myself the first thing that pops into someone's head is the reputation that precedes my name? It's not my fault. I didn't choose who I was born to. What my name is.

I didn't choose to have the name Malfoy imprinted in my blood.

But I don't care. I am proud of my name. Even if that name comes with a bad reputation. I am a Malfoy. It's who I am. Accept it or leave it. Take your pick. I can't change what name it is that flows through my veins. A Malfoy at heart, but not by nature.

I won't pretend I'm not like the rest of them that bare my name. To some people I probably am a snob. I don't try to be like them. It's just the way I was raised.

Now everybody in wizarding society knows the Malfoy name. If not by personally meeting one, then through reputation. But hardly anybody actually takes the time to go beyond the Malfoy name and come to know the people that bare it. I know for a fact that to be a Malfoy is to be lonely. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of friends. But some people only want to (and even not want to) know you just because of your name.

I find it funny how something so insignificant as a name can mean so much. It's something we all grow up with.

Perhaps I should introduce myself. The name's Malfoy. Kathryn Marie Malfoy. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Take Pride in Being a Pureblood

My Father was always a very proud man. He took pride in how he was presented toward others. He took pride in what he believed in. He took pride in being a pureblood. But above all, my Father took pride in being a Malfoy.

From as early as I can remember, I was always taught to take pride in being a Malfoy and a pureblood. To this day, I still do. I am proud of who I am. There is no denying it.

It's the only thing my Father and I agree upon. We should be proud to be who we are. However, my Father takes his pride too far. But I won't go into that. You've probably heard it all before. But to put it simply, he's a Death Eater. I'm sure you've heard all about them. They're the ones trying to keep magic in the pureblood wizarding families by taking extreme measures where the Muggle-borns are concerned.

Muggle-borns. Now there's a topic Father and I never saw eye to eye on.

I can remember our first argument regarding that topic as if it were yesterday. I was nearly twelve and had just come home after my first year at school. I had made some friends. Some of them were pureblood. But there were two or three who were Half-Bloods or less. My Father didn't approve. He didn't say anything about it. But I could tell he didn't approve. It was in his eyes. Those eyes that once upon a time looked at me with pride were now filled with disappointment. I didn't know it then. But that look was the beginning of an animosity that would never be resolved between my Father and I.

I was always "Daddy's Little Girl" up until that day. That day I decided to grow an opinion.

My Father was the one who named me the day I was born. Kathryn. The Romans believed it came from the Greek word katharos, meaning "pure"… or in my case "pureblood". I guess my Father believed it too. I told you he took pride in being a pureblood.

After that day when I was nearly twelve, I think my Father thought I mustn't take pride in being a pureblood anymore if I had felt the need to make friends with those of a lesser blood status. He didn't yell at me. He never yelled. He was always calm. But sometimes it's the calm that can hurt more.

Years past. And before long my Father and I barely spoke two words to one another. And that was in public. Where we were supposed to play the perfect happy little family. It was now rare to see all of us together at once.

After my fourth year I decided to leave the bitterness behind. I left my childhood home and moved to one of my friend's homes in South-East France. Near where I went to school. I was happy. But I now had an empty space inside me that would never be the same again.

Soon every one forgot about the Malfoy's eldest daughter.

The Colour of Envy is Slytherin Green

The day my brother got accepted into Hogwarts was a rare happy day in the Malfoy household. It was in the same summer I decided to share the fact I had friends that weren't purebloods. My Mother was over the moon that her precious baby boy didn't have to stray too far away from home to attend school. Unlike me.

I know my brother is probably going to cast some nasty hex on me for saying this. But I don't care. Let him do his worst. The night before he was to leave for school, my brother was scared. He wouldn't admit it. He's too much like our Father. But he was scared.

Now, let me explain something to you first. The layout of the Mansion, in which us Malfoy's lived in, is fairly simple (unlike what some would have you believe). It has a west wing, which houses our parents; and an east wing, which houses my brother and I. Of course there are other areas in the Mansion, but they are not important at the moment. My brother's bedroom is directly across from mine. And over the years either my brother or myself could be seen going across the dark hallway and into each other's room when we were scared, lonely, uncertain or just evidently because we couldn't sleep. It was a childish habit. I know. But it helped us get through some of the hardest times in our lives.

So my brother was scared about going away to school. It wasn't that he didn't want to go. It was just nerves, I guess. Going some place new without knowing a soul. Yeah, that was it. I felt the same way before I left for my first year. So when he came into my bedroom that night before he left, I kind of knew straight away what the problem was.

As we sat on my bed, eating a stash of chocolate I stole from the kitchens earlier, I told him not to worry. Just make as many friends as possible. Who cares about the purity of their blood? Just as long as they were nice people. Had I known at time what my Father was going to tell him at the train station the next morning I would have said something more.

That first year went pretty well for my brother. We wrote to each other. Telling each other about things that really didn't have any importance what-so-ever. Of course the important questions like "How are you?" and "What are your classes like?" and the occasional, "How many detentions have you got this week?". I'd usually win that last one. I'm quite the trouble maker, or so I'm told.

After the first letter came, I found out that Harry Potter was in my brother's year. The Harry Potter. You know, famous kid, scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt, defeated the Dark Lord before he could talk. Not that I really cared. The kid had a right to an education after all. But my brother cared. Every letter I'd receive from him would have at least one paragraph on how much he despised Potter and his little followers. I found it funny though. He never used the word "hate" when discussing Potter and his friends. I guess it was because deep down he still admired Harry for doing the things he did.

It was obvious that my brother envied Potter. Any fool could see that. But hardly anyone, except those who truly knew my brother, could tell that he admired Potter. Although he'd never admit that either. But he truly admired Potter. And I guess that's another reason to envy him.

Gluttony: The Story of My Mother

My Mother is not the characteristic mother. To be quite honest, she is lazy. Well, not lazy. Perhaps too self-absorbed is a better way of describing her. It's not that she didn't care about her children. It's just that she was never a real mother figure.

Growing up, my brother and I were always taken care of by nannies, tutors, even house elves, or sometimes we were just left to our own devices. Mother was always too busy to take care of us like other mothers do. She was constantly throwing dinner parties, going out shopping, gossiping with her friends. Forever trying to prove she was the best, most well presented, prim and proper woman in the entire wizarding community.

My Mother is the type of person who always wants more. I guess that's one of the reasons why she married my Father. He could provide the life she was use to when she was growing up. Mother is the youngest of three sisters. The baby of the family that never did anything wrong and always got her own way. So she was use to the high life way before I even came on the scene.

Now don't get me wrong. I love my Mother. It's just that I can never remember a time when she was truly there. Well, of course there were times she was there. But I mean, there with a smile on her face. Not with the look that something had died and was giving off a bad smell right under her nose. She is so pretty when she smiles. Not the fake smiles that she shows in company. But the true smiles that make something twinkle in her eye and make you feel like your truly loved. I hardly ever see her smile anymore. It's like it was something during the early years of my childhood that got lost as I grew up.

Mother loved to show off her children to all her friends. Especially when we were little. She liked to prove that we were the best. Or maybe she liked to prove that she was a good mother. I don't know what she was trying prove back then. Alls I know is I can never repress the shudder that runs through me when Mother pulls out the fine china.

Looking back on it now makes me laugh. My Mother makes me laugh. Her life of gluttony is funny to me. Don't ask why. It just is. Some may think it sad that she is never satisfied with what she's got. I find it funny. Call me odd. But I can't help it. It's probably because I have grown up with it. I'm used to my Mother's mannerisms.

The Wrath of a Malfoy is Quite Deadly

In my third year, my Father tried some funny business at my brother's school. Something about the opening of a chamber and some creature got loose and caused a big stir. I didn't hear all the details. Alls I know was that Father's plan failed. And when Father fails all hell breaks loose.

I remember it well. It was my last summer at the Mansion. My Father's wrath shook the whole house. It wasn't a loud shouting temper. It was more of his calm temper. The temper that scared me. However, I wasn't easily perturbed from being my naturally charming self during that summer.

There was one particular dinner which sticks in my memories quite well. It was just the family. My Father was in his usual seat at the head of the table. My Mother, opposite him, sat at the other end. Then my brother and I sat opposite each other toward the centre of the table. The meal was silent, as it always was. But the tension that was in the air that night was so think that I felt I could cut it with a knife and serve it at my Mother's next tea party with jam and scones.

Father was seething. You could almost see the steam of anger blasting out his ears. But as always, he kept his cool. One of the important things to remember when growing up Malfoy. Never loose control. Never ever. It does not do well to upset one's good image.

Mother was her usual self. Sure she sensed Father's anger but she didn't do anything about it. To busy fretting over when her next social outing was and whether it would out do her's. 

My brother, however, looked like he wanted to burst at the seams. He was anxious, like he just wanted to get out of there. And the sooner, the better. He kept looking to me as if I were going to break the icy walls. Well that wasn't going to happen in a rush. Last time I did, I ended up being pretty much disowned for befriending someone "beneath my status".

But then again, I'm a nice person. Plus I can't stand awkward silences. Therefore I did the only thing I could think of. I scrapped my chair back as loudly as I could. Everyone looked up at me. Then, without as much as an excuse me, I stood up and marched toward the door. I wasn't going to sit there being all uncomfortable if I could be up in my room doing something I'd enjoy. Nevertheless, I never even made it out the door.

My Father's cold drawling voice echoed through the silent room. "Sit down." Two words. The most he ever said to me in two years without being forced too.

Now most people would obey my Father's every whim. Especially when he used that tone. Not me. I never did before and I wasn't about to start then. I refused. "No."

The next part comes as a bit of a blur for me. I can never remember exactly how it happened. I knew I was taking life into my own hands when I refused my Father. Before I knew it, I was down. Mother screamed. My brother was in shock. It was the first time ever I was brought to physical harm by my Father.

His next few words, directed at my brother, were the ones that truly hurt. More than the whack over the back of the head by his cane. "Don't you ever follow her example." He said, spitting out her like it was venom. "She is nothing more than a mudblood loving fool. She is not even worth the name Malfoy."

Its Simple Math, Greed + Sloth Sibling Dispute

The summer after my sixth year was a weird one. First of all, my Father had landed himself in prison for doing something stupid. My Mother had decided to be a real mother for once and have all her children living under one roof again. And my brother… well, he's just weird.

I didn't particularly want to move back to the Mansion. I was quite content with where I was. However, Mother insisted. And who am I to refuse my Mother?

I came back to England expecting to go back to the old Wiltshire Mansion that had been in my family for generations. But wouldn't you know it. I got the shock of my life when I got out of the car. My jaw dropped to the ground and my eyes nearly fell out of their sockets they were that wide. Where the hell had the Mansion gone?

Well, it hadn't gone anywhere. But apparently the owners of it had. I was standing in front of what looked to be a cosy two story cottage right out of a fairy tale. And I was scared. What the hell had my Mother done now?

I knocked on the door. Not believing that my Mother, the woman who always wanted bigger and more extravagant, went out and bought a cottage. It was just not sane where my mother was concerned. Sure enough, one of the house elves opened the door and squealed at the sight of me then ran of to who knows where. Freak. Had my whole family gone nuts since Father went away?

Spoke too soon. There was my brother standing at the top of the stairway wearing his usual sneer. Dressed in the finest clothes money could buy. Greedy little ferret that wouldn't be able to catch a snitch even if it landed in his hand. And I told him just that.

He quipped back with something along the lines of "Road kill sloth that the thestrals dragged in after realizing that I was not edible". Ladies and gentlemen. My brother. I swear one day he'll write the book on one liners.

We glared at each other. Waiting for one to crack. He couldn't handle it. He broke into a smile, which soon led to a laugh. Ha, I win again. I always win. And that was how our Mother found us. Laughing our heads off in the most undignified manner. Good times were ahead, I could tell.

But, like all siblings, my brother and I had our moments. Like one particular time when Mother went out with some friends and I conveniently gave the house elves the night off. Needless to say my brother was angry so I agreed to make dinner.

"What the hell is this?" My brother bellowed in a demanding tone.

I was currently lay on my bed, reading, when I looked up from the book to see my self-centered little sod of a younger brother standing at the door of my room, holding up a brown paper bag that seemed vaguely familiar.

"What's what?" I said innocently, batting my eyelashes at him, knowing for a fact the expression drove him nuts.

"Oh no! Don't you dare play innocent with me." He stormed into the room and towered over me. Which, mind you, is not hard. "What the hell is this?" He repeated, more menacing this time, and shoving the paper bag into my face so I knew exactly what he was talking about.

I gave the bag a calculating look. "Well, if I didn't know any better; I'd say that it's a brown paper bag."

My brother groaned in frustration. "I know it's a brown paper bag, you moron. I was asking about the bag's contents."

"Oh, is that all?" I said, loosing interest and turning my attention back to my book. Which was very interesting, I might add. My brother's diary is a highly amusing read. I recommend it to all. "That, my dear ferret, is a Big Mac."

"And?"

"And what?" I looked up again at my poor little confused brother.

"What the hell is a Big Mac?"

"What is it with you and the word 'hell' lately?" I inquired, changing the subject on purpose just to irritate him further.

"Are you going to tell me what a Big Mac is or not?" He asked impatiently.

I smirked, I always knew which buttons to press when it came to annoyance. Especially when it came to annoying my little brother.

"It's just the greatest hamburger ever invented." I answered. And after a further look of confusion from him I added, "It's got two all beef patties, special sauce, pickles, lettuce, onions, on a sesame seed bun."

His face twisted into an expression of utter disgust. "Sounds gross."

"It is gross. And fattening. And greasier than Snape."

My brother cringed. "Then why is it so great?"

"'Cause it tastes so good." And with lightning fast reflexes that came from many years of playing seeker at my school, I snatched the bag out of his hand and took the burger out of the bag, then proceeded to unwrap it and take a huge bite.

It wasn't long before I was licking the special sauce of each finger, and let out a satisfied, "Mmm, so good."

"Right." My brother said, looking utterly grossed out. "So. What's for dinner? You're cooking. Remember."

"Um…" 

Naturally, I was never asked to cook again. Yes, times had indeed turned for the better.

Lust Is a Typical Malfoy Trait

Throughout the generations Malfoy's have always lusted after one thing or another. For my Father, it was power. My Mother, image. And believe it or not, for my brother it was love.

I don't want to go too far into it. After all, it's not my story to tell. But I can tell you this. It wasn't the love of my parents that my brother lusted after. After all, we both knew in their own twisted ways our parents loved us… sometimes.

I think it began sometime after Father's trial that my brother's lust truly began to show. The trial had changed my brother. Changed for the better, I hope. But what bothered me is why didn't I notice it before. I guess it was because I was hardly ever around much after he had started school. However, that's all going to change now. After all, I have decided upon a changed of scenery is in order for my seventh year. I have decided that I, Kathryn Marie Malfoy, am going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That should help get my brother what lusts after.


End file.
